Perfectly Perfect
by sophiatheidiot
Summary: Dishonesty is a disease, a virus snaking through your veins until you're too sick to fight anymore. But once she started, she couldn't stop. The stars were her only witnesses. One shot. /suicide, barely there femslash, and self harm mentions.


**contains: suicide, implied femslash, self harm ments.**

* * *

It was a quiet night when she decided the inevitable.

A Sunday, her favorite day. The calm before the storm, the beginning of the end.

The stars were just poking their way into the sky, some barely there and others shining like candles.

Yes, it was perfect. Perfectly perfect.

Well, the night was. Her methods were a different kind of perfect. She didn't know which one to choose.

She would go quietly, maybe. She had seen those pills on the bathroom counter. An eternal sleep.

Or she might break apart her pencil sharpener, to slice her life away. Succumbing to the darkness.

She could possibly wander off and freeze in the woods. Never to come back.

Too many possibilities. Too many options. All perfect in their own ways.

Her bed was comfortable. Maybe she should stay there? Oh, she didn't want her dad to find her there. Or did she? Imagining him touching her shoulder, get up, get _up,_ and nothing happening. Imagining him shaking her shoulders, no response. She sighed.

He might blame himself. That would be untrue, of course, but how was he to know that? Grief would envelop him, she knew. After her mom passing, too...

No. This was happening. It was happening tonight. No doubts.

Was it cold enough to freeze? They couldn't think she was kidnapped or lost... she never liked the cold anyway.

So that was decided. She brought her hand to her mattress. Soft. It was strange to think of it as her deathbed.

Her sketchbook was on the counter, open to an empty page. It mocked her. She remembered promising her mom to fill it, on every page a beautiful picture.

Oh, how she hated lying.

Dishonesty is a disease, a virus snaking through you veins until you're so sick you can't fight anymore, until you're controlled by it. She knew that when she uttered the first lie. But she continued anyway.

 _"I'm sorry Violette, it's just..."_

 _"Just what?"_

 _"I don't like girls..."_

She remembered the scene all too clearly. It was spinning in her head now, looping over and over and over.

 _"That's ok, I understand."_

That's how it started. The web of lies. Alexy was just a fly, caught believing her. And she was the spider, attacking all that came to her, whether they knew it or not. Because in the end, they're going to be hurt. Eaten by grief like a fly by a spider.

She stood up, shivering. The cold of the floor seeped through her bare feet. It took her a moment to get used to it. Stepping carefully so as not to tread on the creaky boards she had memorized weeks ago, she made her way to the table on which her sketchbook laid.

Her pencils were spread out across the surface, disordered and messy. By the time she had them carefully sorted in a nice little line, the stars were in their full brilliance, sparkling down on her.

The drawing didn't take long. Even though she was her own worst critic, she could tell how beautiful it was. How _perfect_ it was. She admired it in the starlight.

Carefully, she tore out the page and shook it a little to remove the extra graphite that may smudge it. As much as she didn't want to fold it up, it was the only way.

Crisp lines, pushed down with her dainty nails. The sound was loud in the silence, and after every motion she waited, listening, hoping it didn't wake her father up.

It was now clutched in her hand, tight but not too tight. Cant wrinkle it now.

She set it on the bed and then padded to the bathroom. Her heart was beating fast now.

The pills were there, in an orange container half hidden by empty bottles of shampoo and lotion. She knew her dad meant well, trying in vain to hide them from her and from himself. But he needed them, so he never could completely get rid of them.

She picked uo the bottle, filled a small cup from the counter with water, and returned to her room.

Her pulse was roaring in her ears. It was all she could do not to gulp then down right there and then, but somehow she managed to put them down on her nightstand.

So close, but yet so far.

There were a few things to do yet.

Another drawing. This one took longer.

For good reason, too - it was her note. Her real note. Every line a word, every shadow a message. If only they could read it...

This too, she tore out and folded. The pills were taunting her, waiting for her to be enveloped in their comfort.

She set the folded piece of paper next to the other on her bed.

Even closer.

It was dark, but not completely. Her eyelids were drooping, but she knew she couldn't sleep yet. Nonetheless, she crawled into the bed, picked up the second drawing, and closed her eyes.

 _"Oh... Vie... I didn't know you felt like that."_

 _"Um, what do you mean?"_

 _"I mean... Uh... I just don't think we'd work, is all."_

 _"Oh."_

 _"I'm sorry, Vie..."_

She swallowed a gasp as the memory rushed through her. That was the breaking point. The point of no return. She remembered it well. Every shadow, every cloud in the sky.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Silently.

 _"No, no, it's ok."_

Another fly in the web. She almost felt sorry for them. They didn't mean to run into her trap. It wasn't their fault it was in the way.

Who knew it would come to this?

Was she ready?

Her hands trembled. Kim would hate her for this. Hate her for giving up...

No. Kim would hate herself. She would figure out how her words were the breaking point. She was smart in her own way... One of the many reasons Violette loved her.

And one of the many reasons she couldn't go on.

She put the paper to her lips and held it there for a second.

A minute.

One more.

Finally, she set it back down. It was time.

The pills tasted funny. A strange kind of sweet. The taste was washed away with them after she swallowed the water, leaving a faint aftertaste she couldn't place.

A sweet, quiet girl dying a sweet, quiet death.

Trembling - no, _shaking_ hands took the drawings from their place on the bed.

So tired, so, so tired.

With a final deep breath, she laid down, not bothering to pull up the covers or smooth out her hair. It didn't matter because she was already slipping into bliss. She crossed her wrists, a piece of paper in each hand.

Finally. Finally gone, finally done.

Even spiders have to die, leaving their webs to be blown away and forgotten.

The stars shone down on her until dawn. Perfectly perfect.

* * *

 **Ok, that was depressing. Sorry.**

 **I swear I _want_ to write those fluffy stupid stories, they're fun and warm and nice but... agh I dunno. I'm not in a good place in my own life right now. Writing these things calms me down a bit, I guess.**

 **This too was written on my phone. Sorry for any typos, inconsistencies in my writing, and other inconveniences. It was also mostly written after midnight because I got some inspiration during my night blogging haha... yeah I don't know why I'm even putting this piece of crap here..**

 **Also got some inspiration from "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails. Sure you all know the song. If you don't, beware the feels!**

 **Ewww this is long sorry. Hope you didn't hate the story and if you have any insight or something, review!**

 **Have a nice day!**

 **Byyyyyyyyyye!**


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